Old Habits
by Chieira
Summary: Gandara offers Kurama the opportunity to fall back into who he once was. While there, he must decide between his past and his present. Contains Yomi/Kurama, mentions of Kurama/Hiei, and Yusuke being himself.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Wow, it's been a long time since I posted here. I used to post a lot in YYH under the name oOKeairaOo about... four years ago? Five? I have no idea what the fandom has been like since then, so I hope you still enjoy this.

So. Um. For this to work, you're going to have to forget everything that was said between Yomi and Kurama when Kurama first arrived in Gandara. That's right. That whole thing with Yomi threatening Kurama never happened. Because, um, I said so. Also forget the whole Yusuke-never-came-to-Gandara-until-he-proposed-the-tournament thing. Yeah.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own YYH, and am making no money from this story.

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It wasn't that Kurama didn't appreciate the concern. He did. One short, human lifetime ago, he wouldn't have had many friends willing to show concern for him, even embarrassingly misguided concern. Or many friends at all, now that he thought about it, unless one could consider those with whom one committed various unmentionable misdeeds to be friends.

The point was that he appreciated it. Really.

It was just that it was starting to get a bit ridiculous.

Lately, Yusuke had been making a habit of embarking upon 'diplomatic missions' to Yomi's palace. The inherent danger involved in Raizen's heir waltzing into Gandara on a regular basis aside, Yusuke's presence in and of itself wouldn't normally have been a problem. What made it so was the fact that most of these visits consisted mainly of Yusuke failing completely at the art of subtlety while inquiring into Kurama and Yomi's rather complicated relationship.

Kurama could tell that Yomi, in that quiet way of his, found the entire thing hilarious. The barest twitch of an eyebrow, the faintest quirk of pale lips, and the goat-demon might as well have thrown his head back in raucous amusement. Kurama had the sneaking suspicion that, a thousand years ago in this very same situation, he would have done just that.

And as easy as it was for Kurama – and probably _only_ Kurama – to read Yomi, that was how simple it was for everyone else to read Yusuke. Stealth was not one of the boy's talents, after all. That was why Kurama couldn't really blame Yomi for being amused; seeing Yusuke attempting to be sneaky about his concern for the fox's safety was admittedly funny.

Or perhaps the king's amusement came more from the fact that Yusuke thought Kurama even needed his protection in the first place. The fox was staying with Yomi of his own volition, after all, and was free to leave at any time. He _chose _to stay. Similarly, Yomi could never do anything to Kurama that Kurama did not want, or at least tolerate. Differences in power levels aside, the past held more sway over their situation than any amount of youki ever could.

Oh, Yomi liked to play his little power games. He reveled in doing so, really. Once, Kurama had ruled over him as effectively as a king - a remote, untouchable figure seemingly forever out of his reach.

Yomi had responded by making _himself_ into a king. He'd taken Kurama's figurative throne and placed himself in the position of power. What had once been forbidden to him was now at his fingertips, no longer above him but beneath him, often both figuratively and literally.

And he loved it.

But the past could never quite stay there, and Kurama could never stop being Kurama. He _let_ Yomi play his games, not only because of who he had once been, but because of who he now was. Perhaps especially because of who he now was; the knowledge of what he had taken from his old friend now struck him in a way that would never have occurred to him only seventeen years previous.

And so Yusuke's almost childish concern was touching, but misplaced. Yomi had his throne, but Kurama had his heart, and with it the power to dethrone him just as easily as a hunter had struck him from his own seat of power not so long ago.

Kurama wondered idly how Yusuke would feel, knowing that Yomi was far more deserving of his protection than the redhead he seemed so intent on watching over. But then, Yusuke seemed to have some sort of complex about protecting those he considered feminine, and Kurama doubted Yomi would fit the necessary profile. He felt vaguely insulted on behalf of both himself and his former partner.

Speaking of which…

"…So I was hoping Kurama could come with me back to Toranin for a while, if it's okay with you." Kurama idly noted that the dark-haired boy looked childishly annoyed at having to ask permission for anything, much less the company of his friend. Diplomacy did not suit him, but that was hardly a surprise.

And there was that telltale twitch of lips, probably invisible to anyone who hadn't known Yomi back when he'd been a loud, annoying demon of barely two hundred years. "He doesn't need my permission. I can assure you, Kurama is free to do as he pleases."

The dubious look Yusuke cast Kurama made it obvious to the entire room - and probably all of the makai - just what he thought of _that _assertion, and the redhead felt his amusement beginning to melt into annoyance. His pride could only take being stomped on just _so _many times, after all.

"Yusuke." Kurama didn't raise his voice, but the former reikai tantei jumped anyway. Kurama hadn't spoken once since he'd arrived.

"Yeah?"

"May we speak in private?"

Yomi turned away, and Kurama was distantly certain that he would never live this down. Yusuke moved to follow the horned demon, but Kurama caught his arm. "_Now, _Yusuke."

Kurama all but dragged the half-youkai to his room and shut the door behind him. Yusuke, looking sullen and thoroughly confused, rubbed at his arm as soon as the redhead released it. "What the hell, Kurama?"

"You," Kurama informed him, moving away from the door to seat himself wearily on a plush chair, "are making a complete fool of yourself."

Yusuke might not have been the sharpest tool in the shed, but years around Kuwabara and Hiei had enabled him to develop a keen sense for knowing exactly when he was being insulted. And Kurama wasn't even bothering to be subtle. "_Me? _You're the one lettin' this weirdo just… just—I mean, what about Hiei?!"

Kurama crossed his legs, a bewildered expression on his face. "What _about _Hiei?"

"What about—?" Yusuke gaped at him for a moment or two, made a few valiant attempts at explanatory hand gestures, then gave up. "You're not going to make me _say _it, are you?"

Kurama's lips twitched. "I'm trying to decide whether or not I'm that cruel."

Yusuke huffed, setting his hands on his waist and scuffing the worn toe of his sneaker against Kurama's previously scuff-free marble floor. "You guys are… you _know_…"

"Are we?" Kurama managed to keep a straight face. "You must be sure to inform Hiei, then. He should know that he is no longer unattached."

"You're gonna make this as difficult as possible, aren't you?"

"You _have _been repeatedly insulting me for months, now."

Yusuke wrinkled his nose. "I have not!"

Kurama stood, crossing the room to the window, glancing out. "Yusuke, you've been in the makai for a while, now. One would have thought you'd have picked up a thing or two about demonic interaction." And if he didn't soon, then there was going to be trouble when Yusuke inherited Raizen's lands. If Mukuro didn't take advantage of his inexperience in demonic matters, Yomi most certainly would. War wouldn't even be necessary.

"Yeah, well I haven't exactly had time between gettin' kicked around by bald guys and—"

"Despite what you may think about the things Hiei and I have done in private, Yusuke," Kurama interrupted, deciding to skip the headache and explain things to Yusuke in human terms, "we have made no commitment to one another. Hiei is free to do as he pleases, as am I. He's a friend, nothing more."

"Does _Hiei _know that?" Yusuke grumbled, and Kurama was abruptly amused again. So this wasn't just about protecting him, but protecting Hiei, as well. How absolutely… _adorable. _Thinking Kurama needed protection was funny. Thinking Hiei needed it was downright hilarious.

"If he didn't, do you honestly think he and his pet dragon wouldn't have payed me a visit by now?" Kurama pointed out.

Yusuke huffed again, slumping down into the chair Kurama had previously occupied. His friend had apparently made what he deemed to be a valid point, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to pout about it.

Kurama leaned against the windowsill, staring outside silently as he waited for Yusuke's mild tantrum to pass. He was almost startled by the uncharacteristically soft sound of the boy's – man's, he reminded himself - voice when the half-youkai finally spoke.

"Then why are you _here_, Kurama?"

The redhead's face was carefully blank as he lifted a hand to press his fingertips to the cool glass.

"When I figure that out, I'll let you know."

* * *

**Chapter One**

Yomi's suite was located in the highest tower of his palace, the jutting refuge providing the perfect vantage point from which to watch as Yusuke made his way across the courtyard and through the front gates, his only belongings a bag slung over his shoulder. Kurama watched as he paused, turning to glance back at the palace, and for a moment the redhead could have sworn that their eyes met.

Lightning sketched a bright, jagged path across the red sky, the flash briefly obscuring the former reikai tantei from view. Kurama blinked, spots dancing in his vision for a moment, and when he opened his eyes, Yusuke was only a small speck in the distance.

Losing interest in the sight of his departing friend, Kurama turned his gaze to Yomi, standing still beside him. The Gandaran king's head was angled towards the window, brows drawn together over closed eyes, and Kurama knew that Yomi could see Yusuke better, even now, than he could ever hope to.

"What did you say to him?"

Kurama started, briefly annoyed with Yomi's newfound ability to catch him off-guard. "Hm?"

"Yusuke." Yomi smiled, freely showing his amusement now that the object of their discussion was no longer present. "What did you say to him to get him to leave?"

Kurama turned his back to the window, leaning against the wall beside it and crossing his arms over his chest. "The truth. That I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. That you're not holding me here against my will. That he's a moron."

"I don't remember you being quite so blunt."

"That's not true. I used to call you a moron quite often."

Yomi laughed, a deep sound that Kurama found impossible to interpret. Was he truly amused, or did he take offense to the reminder? The youko scowled to himself.

"Ah, but I _was_ a moron," Yomi said as he removed his outer robe, dropping it over a chair. "Your half-human friend is merely inexperienced."

"So were you," Kurama found himself saying, abruptly feeling as if he'd just been led to this conclusion.

"Perhaps," his companion agreed. He managed to make the admission sound gracious.

Every moment with Yomi was a battle carried out through words and body language, one Kurama was only winning by virtue of an unfair advantage – Yomi's heart was one of the first things he'd stolen. Luckily, the redhead had never been one for fair play.

"I'll be in my room," Kurama announced dully, pushing away from the wall.

–

In the warm aftermath of pleasure, the ceiling was a fuzzy, shadowed expanse of color. Kurama blinked, briefly imagining in his lust-fogged state that again he could see a friend walking off into the distance, this time disappearing into off-white plaster. Another blink and the vision was gone, the ridiculousness of it making him smile in the way of half-remembered dreams.

"Pleased with yourself?"

The smile disappeared and Kurama was distantly aware of the warm breath stirring the hair curling at his temple.

"Something like that."

Yomi shifted, his own long, black hair falling around them, tickling Kurama's shoulders and assaulting him with a wave of nostalgia so strong he felt claustrophobic. He imagined violet eyes behind Yomi's closed lids and suddenly needed his space; he pushed at the hard plane of the demon's chest, fingers sliding over skin slick with sweat, finding no traction. But Yomi obliged him, sitting up and pulling out of him carefully. The movement made Kurama wince, though not from pain.

What might have been a knowing look crossed Yomi's face; he sat up on the bed, tying his hair back in a loose knot. Kurama frowned – was he so transparent? He missed his old eyes, hard and golden and more difficult to read than even Yomi's closed-lidded stare.

And still Kurama held all the power. He wondered how it was that Yomi's love was stronger than his hate. Or maybe the old goat had simply gotten the two mixed up.

Kurama felt the bed shift beneath him as Yomi slid out of it to gather his clothes. This was how it always happened – in Kurama's room (the redhead would not tolerate it anywhere else; he felt most comfortable here, most in control, and it was always, _always_ about control), and Yomi left immediately after. Neither of them would exchange gentle touches, soft whispers of affection. For Yomi, this was too close to hatred, and for Kurama, a sort of guilty reminiscence. Maybe that was why he was here in the first place.

A self-deprecating smile appeared on Kurama's lips. He supposed he'd have to send Yusuke a message.

The door closed with a soft click as Yomi left, and the room was silent save for Kurama's even breaths and the very human beat of his heart.

* * *

A/N: I am not used to FFN's new upload system, so I had to go back through and remove all my tags after uploading, then re-alter the formatting. Let me know if I missed any tags? Hope you enjoyed. There will be at least three parts to this, maybe more - but I have no idea how quickly I'll get them out. Everything is sketched out, I just have to flesh it out a bit more.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Sorry this is so slow-going. The chapters are intentionally short, and this is steadily getting weirder. Again, sorry. Just know that the summary is very relevant and that the continuous use of windows is mildly important in its own vague way.

...I don't have a beta and haven't forced myself to find one yet. I'm sorry for that, too.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Yu Yu Hakusho and am making no money from this story.

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**Chapter Two**

"Yes, Mother."

Kurama stood in the observation room, facing a wall of windows as he spoke on a sleek cell phone with a woman worlds away.

"And you've been eating well?" Her voice sounded a bit garbled and distant, but then, Kurama supposed that he was lucky the phone was even working between worlds. Koenma had made a special allowance for him, and he had very carefully not asked about interworldly cell-phone plans.

Yes," he responded, with a laugh that wasn't entirely fake. He was far more used to Makaian food than he was anything his mother had fed him. And Yomi knew his tastes, so he suspected he was eating better in Gandara than he had been while in the human world.

His mind wandered as the conversation continued, his eyes drifting over the dark city, wondering lazily at how easily he could lie to this woman while standing over a demon metropolis. After a few moments, he sensed Yomi's presence behind him and pursed his lips.

"Mother, I need to go. I really should be studying."

A hand found its way to his waist and he flipped the cell phone closed after saying his goodbyes. "I was busy."

"You looked bored."

Kurama imagined that Yomi meant for it to be funny – always saying things like 'you looked' or 'that appeared.' Or he was taunting Kurama in his own, subtle way. It was annoying, whichever it was. Kurama pressed his forehead to the glass, his stomach doing a flip as all of Gandara seemed to stretch out beneath him, so far below him that he might as well have been flying. "I was bored. But I didn't need your help."

Yomi's hand slipped around to caress Kurama's hip bone, as if in punishment, and the redhead closed his eyes. Someday, Yomi would have to learn that punishment was supposed to be unpleasant.

When no verbal reply seemed forthcoming, Kurama cleared his throat. "Did you need something?"

A soft laugh was his only answer, and he could feel his eyebrow twitch against the cool glass. Perhaps it _had_ been a bad choice of words, but Yomi was being rather base in pointing it out, even if he hadn't actually said anything. Kurama twisted out of his hold, and the tilt of Yomi's lips spoke volumes. His sense of humor obviously hadn't changed much in the past thousand years, even if everything else about him had. It should have been a comfort, but it only reminded Kurama of the differences.

And that train of thought only served to remind him of Yusuke's earlier question.

* * *

After the warm welcome he had received upon his last visit, Yusuke had not returned to Gandara. Kurama thought that his friend might have been insulted – he wouldn't have blamed him, as that had actually been his intention – but a few days after Yusuke's departure, Kurama received a letter from the Toranin heir. Convenient.

He'd left it on the desk in his suite, and would have forgotten about it completely – selective memory was a powerful thing - if not for his little reminder in the observation tower. Later, after shooing Yomi from his room, he sat down at his desk and carefully opened the letter. It was, as he had expected, filled with spelling errors and horrible sentence structure. But, like Yusuke himself, its seeming chaos hid something much more substantial.

_--and so then Keiko hit me over the head with her umbrella and told me that if I ever touched her there again, she'd shove it down my throat and _open _it. Which would suck, am I right? I mean, you've been alive a long time, I bet you've seen something like that happen before. But the point is, I finally did the assignment so that Keiko wouldn't have another reason to kill me. Again. And it actually turned out pretty cool, ya know? I mean, it's lame and all, but it helps. You don't even have to send the letter, just write it out. Not that I don't want you to send the letter, because damn if you aren't confusing and I kinda wanna know what's going on in your head sometimes, but--_

The useful part ended there. It was, admittedly, a rather juvenile exercise: write out your thoughts in a letter to a friend. Whether or not the letter ever found its way into the mail was entirely voluntary – the point was to get the thoughts out. Kurama had participated in a similar assignment when he had been in school. It seemed silly, but what could it hurt? Getting things down on paper might make them easier to sort through.

Kurama set Yusuke's note aside and procured a fresh piece of parchment from a drawer in his desk. He smoothed one hand over it and studied the blank sheet for a long time. He was writing to Yusuke, so he felt that whatever he wrote should be relevant to his friend while still somehow getting across some of the chaotic things that had been running through his mind of late.

But perhaps he was putting too much thought into this. Wasn't he supposed to simply write whatever was on his mind at any given moment? He put pen to paper and, in smooth, flawless characters, began to write.

_I still have the scar on my stomach. My youki keeps more serious wounds from scarring, yet that one remains. I don't know why. Maybe I want it there._

Kurama set his pen down, feeling a twinge in his stomach at the thought of the thin, white mark there. He dropped his chin into his hand, remembering shocked red eyes and his first well-intentioned betrayal. Or was it his second? He idly traced one finger over his bottom lip.

Hiei was more forgiving than Yomi.

* * *

Being with Yomi felt like freedom, like a warm den and a new bedmate every night and the rush of a successful heist. It was the best kind of pain.

Kurama wondered what being with him felt like to Yomi.

His mind was cloudy, half-formed thoughts drifting through his consciousness like the pale hands beneath his shirt or the fluttering of lips against his neck, over his pulse. He felt that pulse speed up, disgustingly human and out of place, and it was as if Minamino Shuuichi had caught them in the act. He returned to his body – no, not his at all – and cupped Yomi's cheeks in his hands, tilting his face up for a kiss. The Gandaran king smiled coldly against his lips.

Maybe being with Kurama felt like revenge.

* * *

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Reviews, plzkthx? I love hearing from you guys.

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Yu Yu Hakusho, making no money from this story, blah blah.

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One of the benefits of staying in Gandara was that Yomi's palace had many, many places to go when one wanted to be alone. Meddling dignitaries aside, the castle was usually rather empty, almost deserted. Kurama imagined Yomi liked it that way; with hearing like his, the constant presence of servants, employees, and whoever else might otherwise be occupying the palace would probably be maddening.

Kurama enjoyed the quiet. And when his room or one of the many other hiding places he'd found since returning to the Makai failed to provide sufficient solitude, well. The roof of one of the towers offered an excellent view, and he had easy access to it from his window.

Perhaps Hiei had rubbed off on him. Just a bit. But he could lie on his back, watching as the yellow lightning sketched silent, jagged paths across the sky, and he was home. He knew this sky, knew it better than anything in the life he now lived. Any time over the past thousand years before he'd fled to the human world, he could have looked up and he would have seen this same sky. Starless, cold. Comforting in its painful familiarity, like long black hair and hot breath against his skin.

Yomi was often as silent as his palace, but his silence wasn't soothing. It was everything Yomi wasn't supposed to be, conflicting with memories of loud laughter and playful taunting. So many memories were packed into Kurama's mind that sometimes he worried he was mixing things up. Perhaps this was the way Yomi had always been.

He didn't like to think that it was his fault.

_Yomi isn't the way he's supposed to be_, Kurama wrote furiously to Yusuke after sitting in silence with the Gandaran king for what had felt like hours. It had been a nice, comfortable silence, and Kurama had hated every second of it with a fierce passion. _I don't even run away properly. _

Yomi seemed to sense Kurama's restlessness. He offered to spar with him after a particularly trying meeting, and Kurama accepted the offer with an eagerness that surprised even himself. It was foolish, he realized later, to think that this part of their relationship would have stayed the same, either.

Sparring with Yomi had, at one time, been one of Kurama's favorite pastimes. Of course, the fox's idea of sparring had been a few hours of forcefully attempting to beat some sense into the other demon's horned head. Kurama got the feeling Yomi hadn't been especially fond of their little sessions, but they'd been a great way for Kurama to work out his frustrations, at least.

About an hour after they arrived in Yomi's personal training ground, as Kurama pushed himself up from the dirt with shaking arms and stared up at his opponent – breathing easily, tilting his head in a mock gesture of concern – Kurama thought that this was all definitely some sort of divine retribution.

Later, they again sat together in that damnable silence, Kurama leaning against the wall and Yomi politely pretending not to notice that they were waiting for the redhead to find the strength to walk again. Kurama wasn't sure what prompted him to speak – whether it was simply to break the silence or a desperate attempt to vent frustrations that the sparring match had only served to aggravate.

"I hate you."

Yomi tilted his head back, a gesture retained from the old days, when he'd had a habit of glancing up at the sky, as if for inspiration. Remembering the cold roof of Yomi's palace beneath his back and miles of sky stretched out above him, Kurama thought maybe he hated himself more than he could ever hate Yomi.

"You always have."

It wasn't true. Kurama should tell him so. He knew he should.

But he didn't.

* * *

_He loves me, _Kurama wrote to Yusuke, brows creased. _But which me? _

He stopped at that, staring down at the last three words etched across the paper.

Green forests, power surging through his veins, death and pain all mixed with freedom and Yomi's warm laughter and Kuronue's smile and a thousand years of experiences that were an irreplaceable part of his soul.

His mother's eyes, soft in a way that nothing in the Makai could ever be. Hiei's smiles, rare but so, so beautiful. Kuwabara's hand on his shoulder and the inexplicable sense of comfort and companionship that came with it. Yusuke... frightening strength and incredible weakness and oh, so... _human _in a way that Kurama loved and ached for and had long ago resigned himself to simply watching and never tasting. All of them and so many others and the sense of security, of _belonging_ that accompanied them all.

He set his pen down and rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes, the two opposing sides of himself seeming to pull him in separate directions. It felt like he would be ripped apart, torn in two, and he wondered if that was really what was happening to his soul.

The technique he'd used in order to be reborn was not something he'd ever tried before. He had suspected that there would be consequences, side effects, but he hadn't known what they would be or what could trigger them.

He liked to think that's what it was. It would be embarrassing if this was all in his head, brought on by nothing more than human emotions that he was still ill-equipped to deal with.

It was the first time that he was the one to seek Yomi out, instead of the other way around.

He knew Yomi woke the moment he entered his room, but the other demon was kind enough not to acknowledge Kurama's presence and the fox appreciated the gesture for what it was. He slept there that night, doing nothing more than taking comfort in the presence of something familiar to him.

In the morning, when he woke to an empty bed and a tray of breakfast on the nightstand, Kurama thought maybe Yomi had known all along the words scribbled clumsily at the bottom of his letter to Yusuke.

_I don't really hate Yomi. I can't hate him any more than I can hate you._

_

* * *

_

**TBC**


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